


Dreams, Starry Nights

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Friendship/Love, Love, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:41:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23046430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: Daryl misses Rick.
Relationships: Connie & Daryl Dixon, Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes
Comments: 9
Kudos: 67





	Dreams, Starry Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Dreams, Starry Nights (trad fr)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23808574) by [LeTraducteur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeTraducteur/pseuds/LeTraducteur)



> Okay, I promise I'm working on all the long fics I mentioned in my last post. In fact I added a chapter to the porn fic today. But I had to take a moment to jot this mini-one-shot down. I was thinking about how much Daryl must miss Rick on the way home from work and I legit started to tear up. So I was in the zone to write something angsty about it.
> 
> Unbeta'd because it's just a tiny little fic that I wrote on the fly and felt like posting. 
> 
> Also, much like Daryl, I miss Rick Grimes terribly.

I think about Rick all the time; as I make little decisions throughout the day, when I see Judith or RJ, when I look too quickly past Aaron and that beard and his lean build confuse me for just a whisper of a moment. But mostly I think of him at night as I’m wrapping up the day in my head.

I always sit alone outside before bedtime, lookin’ up at the stars and thinkin’ ‘bout things. Wonderin’ if I did right by the day. If my decisions were sound, if they was the same kind of decisions that Rick would’ve made. Lot of folks look to me now the way they used to look to him. Ain’t right. Nobody can fill them shoes, especially not a Dixon. But I know Rick would want me to be what they all need. So I try.

Sometimes, when I think hard enough, I can remember him like it was yesterday. I can remember the crinkles in the corners of his eyes when he smiles. I can remember the way he walks, that gun belt low on his hips and his bowed legs. I can remember his raspy voice and the way my name sounded when he said it.

I was in love with him. Still am, actually, since I still ain’t convinced he’s dead. Lot of times I go to sleep thinking ‘bout what would have happened if I’d have told him how I feel. If I’d have told him that day we found Jesus, before Michonne happened. 

Would he have been shocked? Disgusted? There sure as shit ain’t nothing about me that screams queer and no matter how close we was, I had no reason to believe he’d pick up on anything. Could he have loved me back? 

There was something about the way he carried himself that very first day in camp at the quarry. He had this confidence, this ease. He was instantly someone I admired. Someone I wanted to believe in. I ain’t never had no one to believe in before. All’s I had to count on was myself. But Rick...he was different than anyone else I ever met. And when he offered to come with me to find Merle, I knew this was a man I’d die for. And I would have. 

When I look at the stars I wonder, like a romantic fool that’s completely un-Dixon-like, if Rick’s somewhere lookin’ at the same night sky. I wonder what I’d do if I found him. I picture us coming together like we did after I escaped the sanctuary. Hugging. Rick’s hands holding me tight to him, the smell of his sweat, the feel of his stubble against my cheek. Would I ever be able to let him go? 

Sometimes I fall asleep when I am so deep into thoughts of him that he shows up in my dreams. When I wake up from those dreams, it feels like he’s just died all over again and the loss weighs me down like an anchor. Seven years and I still ache for him like a part of my body is missing. This phantom pain. This agony.

There are some people in Alexandria now that never knew him. Like Connie. I like her. She listens and she only says what she means. I been learning sign language. It’s like this private, quiet language and I like that. She sits up with me late at night sometimes now. Looks at the stars with me. She lets me talk about Rick as she reads my lips. One night I told her all about the day we met Jesus. Had her laughing good and hard at some of our antics. Made me smile, too, just thinking about him. 

When I grew quiet and focused on the north star to keep from tearing up, she nudged me and signed, “You loved him.”

I nodded and signed back. “Yes. I loved him. I miss him.”

And as she put an arm around me for comfort, I lost myself into a river of tears. Connie don’t judge and I don’t feel like I gotta be somethin’ I ain’t around her. I just cried and cried that night and she just sat there with me, rubbing my back and crying, too. Rick would’ve liked her. 

There are three parts of my life. Before Rick. With Rick. And After Rick. Before him, I was lost, angry, aimless. I was a damn foolish kid. Once I met Rick, I became this man I always wanted to be. I could be counted on. I was strong. I felt needed. I felt love for the first time ever. My life with Rick was worth every damn moment of my pain from before him. And then there was after Rick. I carry this emptiness he’s left with every step I take. I carry the sound of his voice in my memory. And I carry this flickering hope in my heart that he’s still alive, that he’s dreaming of me too, that he’s looking up at the same starry nights.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I got that out of my system. Back to work on my longer fics!
> 
> (Side note: Title is from a song I've been into called More Than Life by Whitley.)


End file.
